The shed

My money has all gone
and the beldams have all fled,
but I’ve still got my hearing aid,
my crutches, and my shed.

My shed looks out on Dover Beach,
I watch the lapping tide.
The summer sun embraces me
like a faithful bride.

For company, the seagulls
and the rhythm of the sea;
for memory, the beldams
who all abandoned me.


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